Solace, Hardcastle Style
by dcat8888
Summary: Mark sits behind the wheel again for another race.


Solace, Hardcastle Style

by dcat

This story takes place after Hot Shoes and You Don't Heat the One That Gets You. Please bear with me here…Team Tide is named after the laundry detergent, I figured Mark's team needed a sponsor. And the Newport Series is loosely based on the Winston Cup Series, the predecessor to today's NASCAR sponsor. Winston and Newport are both cigarettes…and I assumed that cigarette sponsorship was big in the 80's. I also wasn't sure about the length of a series or how the point system worked. I'm also not sure if a stock car can blow a cam, but I sure like saying it and writing it, so I went with it. It is after all a piece of pure fiction and I'm really lazy when it comes to looking up actualities. Come to think of it, the characters do not belong to me either. I guess I just can't do anything right!

OOOOO

"Judge, let's go, if we don't leave now, I'm gonna be late," McCormick said standing in the doorway of the den, wearing a grin and clapping his hands, hoping that it would move Milt along.

"Listen Mark," Hardcastle began. When McCormick heard his first name come out of the mouth of the Judge, the grin faded away and he waited for whatever the Judge was going to say next. It probably was going to be something he didn't want to hear. "You know, I gotta a lot of stuff to do around here this week. I think I'm just going to drive out on Saturday for the prelim's and then the race on Sunday. Is that okay?"

This was not what McCormick was expecting at all. "Uh," was all he could muster up to reply. Mark studied Hardcastle's face for any sort of further explanation, but nothing was forthcoming.

"I mean, you don't really need me out there all week do ya? And I just get in the way at those things anyway, you know that," the Judge continued. "I don't like being a leaner," referring to the 'Larry Larry' days.

McCormick was in the midst of a three week ride as the replacement driver for Team Tide. Their driver, Cal Andrews had hit the wall back on May 14th and had been in the hospital rehabbing a bad back ever since. Andrew's crew chief, Mort Mitchell suggested calling up McCormick to see if he could fill the spot for the remainder of the 6-week series, a mere 3-week run. The three weekend races were held throughout the state, the last race was being held just east of Los Angeles, fairly close to home for Mark. He and Hardcastle had stopped at Gulls Way for the day right before heading out again. In the first two races he'd finished 3rd and 2nd respectively and had a nice wad of cash in his pocket so to speak, for his efforts. After this weekend's race, Cal would be back and a new six-week series would begin and Mark would go back to life as Hardcastle's sidekick.

McCormick dipped his head, "I just thought, well, you came along for the first two," and then he stopped waiting for Milt to say something.

"I know that kiddo, but really all I do is stand around and ask dumb questions, everyone knows that, including you. My work's piling up around here," he paused and continued, "It's not like I don't want to be there kiddo, but I think you might do better if you just concentrate on preparing for the race, you know, give it everything you got. I just get underfoot, you don't need that. I'm coming for the race though, I don't want to miss that."

"So you got a new case to work on?" McCormick sounded almost dejected.

"Let's just say I got my eye on a couple of crooks."

"Then maybe I shouldn't go," Mark said, "'Cause you shouldn't be working on something alone."

"Did I say that? I didn't say I was going to start anything. Look, I promise I'm not going to delve into anything without you, if that's what you're worried about. These files are piling up and I want to go through them, clean 'em up, weed 'em out, that's all," he tapped the pile on his desk. "And you better get going if you're going to make your weekly meeting with your team. This is a big opportunity for you kiddo." The Judge looked at his watch and pointed to the time.

McCormick started to turn, but then stopped, "You sure you don't want to come, you're really not in the way, the guys on the crew, they just like to tease like that, well, 'cause it eases up the tension, you know?"

"Yeah I know, but I still don't like being the butt of their tension relief. Anyway I'll be there on Saturday, now get going," Hardcastle said, pointing to the door.

McCormick still wasn't sold on his explanation, but it was clear that Hardcastle had already made up his mind and Mark really did need to leave in order to get to his team meeting on time. He took one more look at the Judge checking for any sign that something was off, but nothing came. "Okay then, I'll see you on Saturday huh?" he asked.

"I'll be there," replied Milt, with a sincere smile.

OOOOO

Hardcastle was right, this was a huge opportunity for Mark McCormick. In the first two races Mark had moved up the on the team points total, allowing Team Tide a good chance to not only challenge for the championship but to win it all. The Judge knew McCormick well enough to know that anything less than finishing first in this weekend's race would be a disappointment to him. McCormick told him after finishing second last weekend that he had already started 'running this upcoming race in his head' and felt he was in a great spot to win this week because of this mental preparation. It was a technique that Mort had told him about.

Hearing that was what led Milt to decide to let him go it alone this week during the preparation for the race. The way he saw it was that this way the kid could focus solely on his goal without any unnecessary interruptions from an old guy who asked way too many stupid questions when it came to motor racing. Even though he'd never say it to McCormick, he realized there was a great deal more to stock car racing than sitting behind the wheel and 'going like stink.' Just like there was a lot more to being a Judge, than sentencing people to jail.

There were a couple of other reasons too, the Judge however would never admit them out loud to Mark either. He didn't want to see the kid crash. And watching him zip around the track, even in practice, though exciting, was also maddening to Milt. Somehow watching someone else drive that fast didn't bother him half as much, but knowing that Mark was inside the car, scared him half to death. It was going to be hard enough to sit through the race, let alone all the practice sessions.

The second reason was that the Judge really wanted him to win. He wanted more than anything, that the kid should enjoy success. He could never bring himself to tell him what a smart racer he thought McCormick was. That'd 'violate' the '_don't talk mush' _code that they shared, though they both slipped up every now and again. Anyway, it was an unspoken thing most of the time, except when a turn of word or phrase made its way between them and that in and of itself was few and far between though, sort of a invisible line in the sand that they didn't cross. They both knew it was there and they both respected it.

"I just want him to win," Milt said, sitting down and plucking the top file. "He knows that," he added to the empty room. He cleared his throat and went about his work. He grabbed a slip of paper with a phone number written on it off of his desk and picked up the phone and made a call.

OOOOO

McCormick poured his heart and soul into his preparation. He knew a good showing in these three short weeks could mean a bigger and better opportunity down the road. Part of him wanted that chance, while part of him looked in a different direction. Just like driving in the race, decisions were going to have to be made. Right now though, it was about preparing for Sunday's 250. When McCormick wasn't out taking laps on the track, he was working alongside Mort and the rest of the crew taking great care in ensuring the car was in top working order. McCormick was like a sponge, taking in and putting into practice every suggestion or tip that his team gave him and inputting his own ideas into the group too. He was living and breathing this race and he was solely focused on the goal of winning Sunday's race. As much as he wanted the Judge to be there, he couldn't help but see the benefit in his racing during the practice without him around. Focusing on something 24/7was putting him in the driver's seat to a successful race, he was more than prepared, he was ready to win. Hardcastle, as usual, was right about that, Mark thought as he walked back to his trailer for a quick lunch.

He couldn't help but think of the Judge though from time to time and what he was up to back at the estate. _Getting into some sort of trouble or doing something he shouldn't be attempting_ was what McCormick was thinking as he walked. And he also thought of all the things the Judge had, well, for lack of a better word, taught him. Maybe he already knew the lessons, but Hardcastle reinforced them and McCormick finally started making sense of his own life because of them.

Before he was about to step in to his trailer, another man approached him and introduced himself as Peter Fletcher. The two of them shook hands. He was a reporter with the _Los Angeles Times._ He was looking to do a feature story on auto racing and wanted to include Mark McCormick and Team Tide as a part of the article.

McCormick grinned, "Come on? Me? I'm nobody, just a replacement driver, you probably want to talk to Mort or Cal, Mort'll know how to get hold of him." He was about to point out Mort to the reporter.

"Actually Mark, is it okay to call you Mark?" McCormick nodded, "I'd like to get your perspective, I understand you raced a few years back, and since then you've been filling in here and there. You might say I'm looking for a different angle, not the same old story you know. I've already done a feature on Cal, I want something new. And I saw your last two races, you're a good driver," Fletcher said. "The Newport Series is my beat, I guess I'm tired of just reporting on the races. The readers, well they like the human interest angle," Fletcher paused and added, "Whatta ya say?"

McCormick shook his head in disbelief. "Well, I guess if that's the story you want to do, that'd be all right. I'm not sure what I've got to say is all that interesting or that anyone would want to know about it. Um, I'm just about to grab some lunch, you want a sandwich?" Mark nodded toward the trailer.

"It's four in the afternoon and you're just grabbing lunch?"

"Uh yeah, I've been working since 6am, yeah, this is the first break I've had."

Fletcher smiled, "No lunch for me, I'm fine, but if you don't mind, I'll come along and ask you some questions," Fletcher said.

"Come on then," Mark said opening up the door to his trailer.

OOOOO

On Saturday, Milt drove out to the track to watch the prelim's. The better Mark did during these short runs, the better starting position he'd have for Sunday's 250. By the time Milt arrived Mark had gotten two runs already and finished second and first. He had about an hour break before his next trial and was making his way back to the racer's food buffet tent, when he saw the Judge walking over giving a slight wave of his hand. He waited for the Judge to catch up with him.

"Did you get all your work done?" McCormick cockily asked and continued, "Put all the killers behind bars? Clean out the files and still find time to clean the pool?"

"Very funny, and yes most of it is done, how's it going here? You didn't loose your ride yet did you?" The Judge asked him, quickly changing the subject.

"Not hardly and not bad, I think I have a real shot at tomorrow Judge," Mark said honestly.

"Of course you do, you been practicing at it all week now," the Judge said. "A smart guy like you should figure out how to go around in a circle by now."

McCormick grinned. "I got a bit of a break, just heading in for some food, you want to tag along?"

"Sure, I could go for a cup of coffee about now," the Judge answered.

The two of them headed inside grabbed their food and found an empty table to sit at. "You look tired, you been getting enough sleep?" the Judge prodded.

"Enough. You know I guess I'm used to sleeping on that hard old antique back at the gatehouse, that a real nice soft bed seems too unusual," Mark answered with a dig about his Gull's Way accommodations. "But I have been busy this week Judge, you know getting up at the crack of dawn and such, I'm glad I've gotten in the practice of doing that, thanks to a certain Judge I know and his merry basketball," he paused and added sincerely, "it's been great, you know? This is a great team. I learned a lot from Mort, about the car and about driving. He knows more about this particular track than the guy who built it. Sometimes I guess I forget how much I like doing this."

"Well, anything beats after chasing after bad guys huh?" the Judge intoned.

McCormick didn't mean it like that and the smile he had been showing now disappeared, "Judge don't make me pick right now, let me just enjoy this."

"Of course, I mean I can tell you like this, it's written all over your face," the Judge said. "Maybe this Team Tide should make you the permanent driver. You know you're doing better than Cal did for the first three weeks. I heard some guy say that Cal made great wall paper." Milt pressed the side of his nose for effect.

"Shh, come on Judge," McCormick said, as there were other teams in the vicinity as well as his own crew. "I gotta work with these guys Judge," and under his breath he added, "'sides it's bad luck to knock the permanent driver."

"I'm just saying what I heard, that's all, I mean some guys do just sit behind the wheel going around in circles," Milt added. "You've been working with your team though?"

McCormick laughed and nodded. "Yep, it's a team sport Judge, no matter what you think. It takes all the guys working together to make it work."

"Hey, I've been doing some reading sport, I'm starting to understand this thing more. The driver's are pivotal to the success of the team," the Judge replied. "You're like the quarterback, right?"

"What are you quoting? Wheel and Driver?" followed by another McCormick laugh.

"I'm just trying to understand your world here," Hardcastle said seriously.

"That'd be a first." McCormick glanced over to him and tried to ascertain whether the Judge was being serious or not.

"Quit looking at me like that, you know I'm not some one-dimensional character. I don't spend all my time hunting down law breakers, don't you know that by now?"

"I know that, but honestly, I never thought you'd delve into the world of stock car racing, it's not really your style of sport."

"What kind of style am I wise guy?"

McCormick tossed his head from side to side, "You're more of bowling sort of guy, right down to your wardrobe," he said eying up his cut-off shirt and sweatpants. "I mean I would bet you could be on the PBA Tour in a heartbeat."

"I don't have the Earl Anthony crew-cut," Hardcastle deadpanned. "But bowling's a good game, I ought to take you to the lanes and teach you a thing or two out there."

"Let me finish up this race first, before we take on a new challenge okay?"

"Yeah sure, of course, you better get back to your team, how you doing so far anyway?" The Judge asked.

"I'm sitting in good shape, finished one-two already, if this keeps up today, I should get the pole for tomorrow."

"Listen, you just do whatever Mort and the rest of your gear-heads tell you," the Judge added. He was about to continue when Mark interrupted him.

"I know, I know, just sit behind the wheel and go like stink," McCormick stood up from the table. "I will. Hey, maybe we can get off the track tonight for dinner huh?"

"Sure, my treat, that is if you get the pole," Hardcastle said, tossing down a bit of a challenge for the kid.

"You're on," Mark held out his hand for the Judge to shake. "If you want to hang out in the trailer, you know you can. It might get a little boring sitting in the stands all afternoon."

"I'll be all right, don't worry about me, just don't go making yourself wall paper now!"

McCormick just shook his head and grinned. "And don't go leaning too much either."

OOOOO

Dinner was a feast for Mark McCormick. He'd gotten the pole after six trials, finishing first four times, and second and third each once. And nothing less than prime rib was going to satisfy him. Hardcastle drove the pickup into town and they found the rather fancy restaurant that Mort had directed them too.

"You sure you want to do this, maybe you should just grab a burger and try to get some sleep kiddo, you need to be sharp for tomorrow."

"Why, did you forget your wallet?" McCormick cracked and Hardcastle just gave him a glare. "Judge, we're not staying out all night, besides, I haven't had a good meal all week, I'm kind of looking forward to this."

"Yeah, why is it when you buy your own dinner it's a burger or a taco, but when I'm buying it's prime rib?" the Judge asked.

"If you don't know the answer to that, there's no use in me trying to explain," Mark fired back.

They got seated at the table and placed their order. While they waited for their meal they fell into conversation. "You all set for tomorrow then?" The Judge began.

"I think so, I mean, I don't want to over-think it you know? Now's not the time for that. That's why this is good, just get out and away from it, even if it's only for a few hours," Mark explained. "It's time to just get out on the track and run. I've learned a lot this week, well, over the last three weeks, so it's time."

"You never stop learning kiddo, least if you're smart you don't," the Judge added.

"That's for sure Judge. I've thought about that a lot this week, what a punk I was," he paused and the Judge finished his thought.

"Before you went to prison?"

Mark shrugged, "Yeah, but I guess I still am really."

"Naw, there's a difference, trust me on this one," Hardcastle explained. "'Sides, you know you have to have a bit of an attitude to do what you do out there, right?"

McCormick agreed, with a bit of reluctance. "You know what, let's change the subject, talk about something completely different. What case or cases did you dig out for us this week?"

"Oh, I got one I think you'll enjoy, a couple of gambling Mafioso types. They're starting to show their bad habits. I saw a picture of them pop up in the paper, some charity type event, charity, can you believe it? So I pulled up their file and apparently this is how they start their little racket," Milt explained. "We'll nail them for sure."

"As long as they don't carry guns, that's okay with me, we can hunt 'em down," Mark started, "Hey, did I tell you that there was a reporter from the _LA Times_ here this week, he asked me some questions, there might actually be a clipping about me," McCormick boasted. "I suppose I need to win tomorrow in order for it to happen though."

"You? Why you?" Hardcastle asked, somewhat surprised by the information.

"He said he wanted a new angle, some sort of human interest thing."

"And you're the best he could come up with? Sounds more like the _National Enquirer_ than the _Times_," Hardcastle joked. "Did he show you his credentials?"

"Very funny. We'll see, anyway, finishing first tomorrow just might help get the story in print."

OOOOO

He finished 4th.

OOOOO

A loud exhaustive sigh followed by, "One wrong move, that's all. Why did I think I could go outside?" McCormick said, as he climbed in the cab of the Judge's pick-up truck. They'd just attached the trailer that carried the Coyote and now they were heading back home. He slammed the door shut with a thunderous crash.

"Hey, don't take it out on my truck okay?" The Judge said from behind the wheel.

"Sorry," McCormick mumbled. "I'll just shut up now."

"Hey, go ahead and grumble all you want, just don't break my truck, I've listened to your mouth for going on two years now, that I'm used to," the Judge said, hoping to break the kid out of the bad mood he was in. He knew though that the kid needed to blow off steam. "So why did you go outside then?"

Another heavy sigh, "I got sucked into it. They left it wide open and I fell for it, it was a real rookie mistake."

"You thought you could outrun the leader huh? You were in second place then."

McCormick nodded, "Yep, it was just stupid. The minute I went high, Toby and Kyle just pushed up and it was over, I knew it right then and there. What a waste."

"Well, someone's got to win and someone has to lose kiddo," Hardcastle said. "You'll get another shot at it, you had a good couple of weeks."

McCormick didn't say anything at first and then he mumbled, "Why does it always have to be me?"

OOOOOO

The following morning the Judge got up and retrieved the morning copy of the Times. He looked over and saw no signs of life coming from the gatehouse, he didn't expect to either. The kid had spent the whole ride back and the whole night moaning and groaning and reliving every lap of the race and blaming only himself for the misfortune that befell him. Hardcastle figured that McCormick would be sleeping in and then hiding out for most of the day, probably most of the week. Hardcastle wasn't very good at handling feelings or doling out tea and sympathy. He tried to joke with the kid, he tried to bet the kid, bribe the kid, he even tried to get the kid to work around the estate and what a mistake that was, but nothing was going to pull him out of the rotten mood he was in. He looked over to the gatehouse once more and opted to just leave him be for the time being. He shook his head and went inside for breakfast.

Pulling out the sports page he began to read the scores of the previous night's baseball games, and then when he opened up to page four he saw a familiar face staring out at him. A grin came to his face. "I'll be damned, this oughta help," he said to his coffee mug.

**McCormick On Track**

**By Peter Fletcher, **_**Los Angeles Times**_** Sports Reporter**

**Mark McCormick thinks you won't be interested in this story, his story that is.**

**You decide.**

**McCormick, 30, a resident of Malibu, is a self-described two time loser. The 'loser' term is in reference to his two stints in the California Corrections system, something he doesn't mind talking about, but certainly something he'd rather forget.**

"**I made some dumb choices and I paid the price. That part of my life is definitely over, it's behind me," said McCormick.**

**This week McCormick has been reacquainting himself with one of his passions, stock car racing. McCormick is the driver for Team Tide and is currently in 2****nd**** place with 434 points for the Newport Series Championship. He replaced driver Cal Andrews, after Andrews was injured in a crash at Sacramento three weeks ago.**

**How did McCormick get back into racing after spending two years in San Quentin?**

"**A little bit of luck and a prior career that recognized him as an up and coming star in the sport," said Mort Mitchell, Team Tide's crew chief and an old friend of McCormick's. "Mark knows his way around the track, he's got good instincts to cross the finish line first."**

**Yet just over three years ago, McCormick found himself in maximum security for grand theft auto. During that time he never thought he'd have the opportunity to sit behind the wheel of stock car ever again.**

"**Those were some long days, and even longer nights," McCormick said, "I thought I had really messed up and dug myself into a hole that I couldn't ever get out of. But I did my time and some circumstances occurred that allowed me to be where I am today."**

**While choosing not to provide full details, the circumstances included the Judge that sent him to prison. After his subsequent release, McCormick found himself in trouble just six months after he got out of San Quentin. That's when retired Superior Court Judge Milton Hardcastle, the Judge who sentenced McCormick to prison stepped in and offered him an unusual type of parole arrangement. McCormick was placed in the Judge's judicial stay and works for Hardcastle for an indefinite period of time. In exchange he stays out of prison for now.**

"**It's fairly unorthodox, that's for sure," McCormick explained, "but then again so is Judge Hardcastle." McCormick spends the majority of his time now working at the Judge's Malibu estate and together the two of them have also helped local police capture and convict roughly twenty criminals in the Los Angeles area. He has received a commendation from the police chief for his work.**

"**Seeing the law and how it works from his perspective has been a real education for me and the opportunity he's given me has been something that is indescribable, it's the difference between failure and success. I know I have a real chance now at a good life," said McCormick, in between a grueling practice session that was heading into its tenth hour.**

**This isn't the first time he's been back on the track either since his release. Last fall he drove for Denco Motors, which led to some undercover work as he and Judge Hardcastle discovered that team owner Denny Collins was guilty of money laundering. Collins is serving 5-10 right now at Vacaville. And this past February McCormick won the Arizona Modified's.**

"**Mark has all the right tools to be successful in this sport," Mort Mitchell added, "He's a smart, aggressive driver who's not afraid to keep learning something new to improve his odds of winning the big race."**

**McCormick finished an unfortunate fourth in Sunday's 250 after making an unusual but gutsy move to pass on the outside in lap 244. McCormick had nearly pulled off the upset when one of the cams blew on his car according to Crew Chief Mitchell. That allowed Toby Evers and Kyle Mapleton to squeeze by. And even though Cal Andrews is scheduled to return to Team Tide this week, the consensus agrees that we haven't seen the last of Mark McCormick in racing.**

"**I think after his showing these past few weeks, another team owner will step up and offer him a ride," Mitchell said. "I really wish we had another car for him ourselves."**

**McCormick though may have other plans, "I'm working on an undergraduate degree right now that I'd like to finish up, plus the Judge will no doubt have a case or two that we need to look into. After that, maybe law school or business school, where I could open up my own car shop down the road. I don't know, I guess I'll just take it as it comes and run the race that's put in front of me. I love racing, but I also have come to enjoy the work I do with the Judge, we'll just have to see how the course is laid out and plan the drive accordingly. In the meantime, I guess I'll just work on my tan," said a grinning McCormick.**

**Sounds like McCormick is definitely on the right track.**

Milt smiled and laughed as he finished reading and re-reading the article. When he was through he walked over to the gatehouse and slid the section under the door. Then he went to make a second call to thank the reporter, who just happened to be the son of another retired Judge.

OOOOO

Several hours later Hardcastle was out by the pool already enjoying his lunch when McCormick finally wandered outside, carrying the newspaper and appearing very much as if he'd just woken up.

"I didn't blow a cam," he began with a bit of a rant, "these reporters they never get anything right. Did you read this?" McCormick continued to gripe. "They can't honestly blame this on the car, or Mort and the rest of the team. The car was fine, it was humming, you know? I was driving, and I just blew it myself. The whole thing is just wrong," he shook his head in disbelief. He paused for a moment and sat down across from the Judge. "I actually am surprised they even printed this, but I really thought it was going to be more about racing. I'm a little disappointed with that," he said, his mouth running faster than his car engine had the day before. "I think people would be more interested in the race than the other stuff. I like the pictures though, I didn't know they had a photographer out there either. What'd you think of it?" he finally asked the Judge.

"I wouldn't say the whole thing is wrong, that last line sounded good to me," Hardcastle said nonchalantly picking up his lunch plate and heading inside.

"The last line? What's it say?" He started making up his own closing lines in jest, "McCormick is an idiot for finishing fourth? McCormick needs driving lessons? McCormick got fed his lunch right there on the track?" Mark hadn't even bothered to read to the end, once the article told about the race, he had stopped reading and gotten worked up over this reporter Fletcher blaming the car and not the driver. He put the paper on the glass table top and started reading the whole article again. As he finally finished McCormick looked up to see that the Judge had already gone inside the house, he scowled up his face. He picked up the paper in his hands and this time re-read the last line and let it sink in.

Hardcastle watched him from the kitchen window. Milt knew he'd gotten to the end of the story when he saw McCormick sit back in the patio chair to relax with a satisfied smile pasted on his face.

"Nice race kiddo," Hardcastle said to his empty coffee cup.


End file.
